She steps forward, her eyes darting around the backyard.
“Sit,” I say, grabbing a bag of marshmallows and a couple of skewers.
She looks between me and the skewers. “You’re kidding.”
“Nope. When’s the last time you roasted marshmallows?” I ask, because no one is too old to make s’mores.
“Never.”
“Never?”
She shakes her head as I push the marshmallow on her stick.
I hand it to her and hold her hand to show her. “Just hold it steady and rotate it until it’s browned.”
Sitting on the patio with Annika feels like this is how life is meant to be. I just need to get her on the same page.
“So is this like meditation to you?” she asks.
“It’s my personal treatment plan. When a girl blows me off,” I say, letting her know that’s what I feel she’s doing to me. “I come out here and burn my marshmallow instead of putting my hand through a wall.”
She exhales, a hint of laughter exposed. “Then you physically couldn’t catch.”
“Exactly.”
Her marshmallow catches fire. “Oh no.”
“Just blow it out.”
She puffs out her cheeks and blows, but it doesn’t go out so I lean over, our mouths only inches apart. “Together. One, two, three.”
Her lips make an “O” and my cock twitches. She claps like a little girl doing something for the first time. She attempts to remove the marshmallow but jerks her fingers away. I slide it off the skewer, gooey, slightly charred. The fire casts a warm glow, softening the edges of her control.
She looks different out here.
On my patio.
By my fire.
With the marshmallow melting between my fingers, I rub it over her lips. “Open up.”
Her lips part and damn, every part of me wants her to be mine. Her body. Her mind.
“Mmmm,” she says.
My knuckles lift her chin and bring her mouth to mine. I lick her sugary lips before gaining entrance. Our lips overlap again. The purr that slips from her lips sends a shiver skittering up my spine.
When we part, she drops her head and touches her lips. I hand her another marshmallow, and she pushes on the skewer. “This time I want a s’more.”
“I’m not good enough?” I ask, chuckling.
“Just want what I never had.”
She holds it over the flame, watching it carefullylike it requires full concentration. Silence settles between us. I’ve learned not to push Annika so I wait. I’m wondering if her coming over has nothing to do with me, personally or professionally.
When the marshmallow is ready, I hand her a graham cracker with a piece of chocolate. She stacks it and I give her the top cracker. And the look on her face, flickering with gold, is pure happiness when she takes a full bite.
“Oh God. So good.”